Elara's POV
"Again."
I throw fire at the target. Miss by three feet. The blast hits the canyon wall and explodes.
"AGAIN."
I'm exhausted. My arms shake. Sweat drips into my eyes. We've been training for six hours straight and Azrathion won't let me rest.
"I can't—"
"You CAN." His voice is hard. "The Council won't care that you're tired. They won't give you breaks. They'll attack when you're weak and kill you before you can fight back. So AGAIN."
I hate him right now. Hate his perfect aim. Hate his endless energy. Hate how he pushes me past every limit.
But I throw fire again anyway.
This time it hits the target dead center.
"Better." He finally nods approval. "Now hit three targets at once."
"THREE?" I stare at him. "I can barely hit one!"
"You need to hit multiple enemies simultaneously. Three targets. Go."
I want to argue. Want to collapse. Want to cry from frustration.
Instead, I split my focus and unleash silver fire in three directions.
All three blasts hit their targets.
I stare at my hands in shock. "I... I did it."
"Of course you did." Azrathion walks over, and for the first time today, he looks pleased. "Your body remembers things your mind doesn't. Lysandra could hit ten targets at once. You're relearning skills your soul already knows."
"Stop comparing me to her," I snap.
"I'm not comparing. I'm explaining." He touches my shoulder. "Take a break. Drink water. We start weapons training in ten minutes."
I collapse on a rock and chug water from the canteen. My whole body aches. Magic burns through me constantly now, rebuilding muscles, strengthening bones. I'm changing physically and I can feel it.
"You're doing well," Morvane says, landing nearby in human form. She's been scouting, making sure the Council hasn't found us. "Better than I expected for someone who awakened four days ago."
"Four days," I repeat. "Is that all? It feels like months."
"Dragon training is intense." She sits beside me. "Azrathion is pushing you hard because he's terrified of losing you. Don't take it personally."
"How can I not take it personally? He treats me like I'm made of glass and iron at the same time."
"You're his bonded mate. Of course he's conflicted." Morvane's smile is knowing. "He wants you strong enough to survive. But watching you get hurt during training drives him crazy."
As if summoning him, Azrathion appears with an armful of weapons. Real weapons—swords, spears, daggers.
"We're doing weapons now?" I ask weakly.
"Your magic is strong but limited. You'll run out of energy in extended fights. You need physical combat skills as backup." He tosses me a sword.
I catch it awkwardly. "I've never held a sword in my life."
"You have. You just don't remember." He draws his own blade. "Defend yourself."
He attacks.
I barely get the sword up in time. The impact sends shock waves through my arms. He's not holding back even a little.
"Too slow!" He strikes again. "If I were a Council mage, you'd be dead!"
"Stop YELLING at me!"
"I'll yell if I want!" Another strike that I barely block. "Your life depends on this!"
"My life depends on you not killing me during training!" I shove him back with a burst of magic.
He grins. Actually grins. "There's that fire. Use it. Get angry. Fight like your life depends on it because it DOES."
We fight for an hour. He corrects every mistake, pushing me harder and harder. My arms scream with pain. My magic flares with frustration.
Then something shifts.
My body starts moving without conscious thought. Blocking. Striking. Dodging. Like it knows what to do even though my brain doesn't.
"YES!" Azrathion's eyes light up. "That's it! The muscle memory is activating!"
We move faster. Our blades clash in a rhythm that feels almost like dancing. For a few perfect seconds, I'm not thinking. Just moving. Just fighting.
Then I slip.
My foot catches on a rock and I go down hard. Azrathion's blade stops an inch from my throat.
We're both breathing hard. His golden eyes burn into mine.
"You're dead," he says quietly. "One mistake and you're dead."
"I know." My heart pounds. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." He sheathes his sword and pulls me to my feet. "Learn from it. Your enemies won't give you second chances."
His hand lingers on mine. The soul-bond pulses between us, warm and insistent.
"You're terrified of losing me," I say softly. "That's why you're so harsh."
"Of course I'm terrified." His voice drops. "I lost Lysandra because I wasn't strong enough to protect her. If I lose you because I didn't train you hard enough—"
"You won't lose me." I squeeze his hand. "I won't let them kill me. I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I'm not." I meet his eyes. "I'm going to survive this. Then I'm going to destroy everyone who hurt us. That's not a promise. It's a fact."
Something fierce and proud crosses his face. He opens his mouth to respond—
A massive explosion rocks the canyon.
We both spin toward the sound. In the distance, fire and smoke rise from the direction we came from.
"The cave!" Morvane shouts from above. "Someone found the cave!"
"How?" Azrathion's face goes deadly cold. "The shielding should have hidden us!"
"Unless they're tracking something else," I say, ice flooding my veins. "The seal. You said it was a tracking device. What if breaking it left a magical signature they can follow?"
His expression tells me I'm right.
"They found us four days early," he says grimly. "We need to run. NOW."
"No." Morvane lands beside us, her face determined. "I'll hold them off. Buy you time to escape."
"You'll be killed!" I protest.
"Better me than you. You're the only one who can free my daughter." She transforms into dragon form. "GO! Get her to the Capitol! Finish this!"
She launches toward the explosion before we can stop her.
"We can't leave her!" I grab Azrathion's arm.
"We don't have a choice." His voice is tortured. "If they capture you, sixty-three dragons stay imprisoned forever. Morvane knows that."
Another explosion. Closer this time. I can hear shouting now. Dozens of voices.
"How many?" I whisper.
"Too many." He transforms and grabs me in his claws. "Hold on. This is going to be rough."
We launch into the air just as the first mages reach us. Spells explode around us—fire, lightning, ice, things I don't even recognize.
Azrathion dodges, flying in a crazy zigzag pattern. But there are so many attackers. So many spells.
One hits his wing.
He roars in pain and we start falling.
"No no no!" I unleash silver fire in all directions, creating a shield around us.
It helps. We stop falling. But the effort drains me fast.
"I can't hold this!" I gasp.
"You have to!" He's struggling to fly with the damaged wing. "Just a little longer!"
More spells hammer the shield. It's cracking. I'm running out of magic.
We're going to crash.
We're going to die.
Unless—
"The fusion magic!" I shout. "Combine your fire with mine!"
"What?"
"JUST DO IT!"
He releases black flames. I grab them with my magic and force them to merge with my silver fire.
The shield explodes outward in a wave of silver-black fusion fire that consumes every spell in range.
For a moment, the sky is clear.
"FLY!" I scream.
Azrathion puts on a burst of speed. We leave the canyon behind, racing toward mountains in the distance.
But the mages are following. I can see them—dozens of them, flying on magic, relentless as hunting dogs.
"We can't outrun them!" Azrathion's voice is strained. "Not with my wing damaged!"
"Then we fight!"
"There are too many!"
He's right. Even with fusion magic, we're outnumbered twenty to one. We need help. We need—
A roar splits the sky.
Not Azrathion's roar. Not Morvane's.
Something else. Something that makes every mage stop and look up in terror.
Through the clouds, shapes descend. Massive shapes. Dragon-sized shapes.
"Impossible," Azrathion breathes. "They're all sealed. They can't be—"
But they are.
Seven dragons burst through the clouds. Different colors, different sizes, but all heading straight for us.
"More of them!" a mage screams. "Retreat! RETREAT!"
The Council mages scatter. The dragons pursue them with savage fury.
We land hard in a clearing. Azrathion transforms immediately, holding his injured shoulder.
"How?" I gasp. "How did they escape?"
"They didn't." A familiar voice answers.
I turn and see one of the dragons transform. A young male with copper scales patterning his skin.
"You freed us," he says, looking at me with wonder. "Three days ago, our seals cracked. Just... shattered. Like someone reached through the magic and tore them apart."
"But I didn't—" I start to say.
Then I remember. The fusion magic. When I combined Azrathion's fire with mine during the cave collapse. When I pushed magic out in all directions.
"Oh gods," I whisper. "I broke their seals. Accidentally."
"Not all of them," the copper dragon says. "Only seven. But it's a start." He kneels before me. "We owe you our freedom. Our lives. Whatever you need, Dragonheart, we're yours to command."
Six other dragons land and kneel beside him. All of them looking at me with fierce loyalty.
"Well," Azrathion says, a smile spreading across his face despite his pain. "This changes things."
"We have four days until the Council's full assault," I say, looking at my small army. "Can you fight?"
"We've been imprisoned for three centuries," one dragon growls. "We've dreamed of nothing but revenge. Point us at your enemies and watch us tear them apart."
Power thrums through me. Not just my magic. Something else. Something that feels like destiny clicking into place.
"Then here's the plan," I say, my voice steady and strong. "We don't wait for the Council to come to us. We go to them. We attack the Capitol, free every imprisoned dragon, and burn their empire to the ground."
"You're insane," Azrathion says. But he's grinning. "I love it."
"When do we attack?" the copper dragon asks.
I look at the sunset painting the sky red and gold. Like fire. Like blood.
"Tomorrow," I say. "We attack tomorrow."